Super-Soldiers
by alcimines
Summary: Wolverine, Captain America, Black Widow, Hawkeye, and Yukio take on the latest incarnation of the Weapon-X program. In the process, they find and free a young super-soldier known as X-23.


_Author's Notes: 'Weapon-X' is the name of the super-soldier program that bonded adamantium to Wolverine's skeleton and claws. X-23 (Laura Kinney) is a character who originally appeared in the 'X-Men: Evolution' animated series. Later on, she made the transition to the actual Marvel comicbooks. She hasn't appeared in any of the Marvel movies yet, but it's probably just a matter of time. This story takes place in the time between "The Wolverine" and "Captain America 2"._

SUPER-SOLDIERS

Part I - Nightmares

The Army tried to continue the super-soldier project, but with Dr. Erskine dead they weren't having much luck.

The latest man to go through the Erskine process tried to smile at Steve, but he couldn't quite manage it. The muscles on the right side of his face were paralyzed. The doctors said that what had happened to Private Joseph Hall was a lot like a stroke. As it was, the man was lucky to be alive - although one doctor had privately told Steve that Joe probably only had a few months left.

However long he lived, Joe was never going to walk again. Or feed himself. Or go to the bathroom without assistance. He was going to spend the rest of his foreshortened life in a hospital bed.

"Steve... I'm sorry, but it didn't go like we figured," Joe whispered to Steve. His voice was raspy and uneven. Joe had problems breathing when he spoke. It was as if his damaged body couldn't do two things at once.

Steve didn't trust himself to speak. So he just nodded, sat down next to the hospital bed, and took Joe's hand in his own.

* * *

Natasha screamed and screamed, writhing in agony as the drugs burned their way through her body. She wasn't the only one - the other "volunteers" were also howling like damned souls. Natasha could hear them begging God and the doctors for mercy even through the steel walls of her chemical-filled coffin.

It seemed to take forever, but eventually the screaming stopped.

The "transformation unit" - Natasha would forever think of it as a coffin - opened slowly as the chemicals inside drained away. Natasha's thoughts were fractured and she was barely conscious. Her throat was raw from screaming and she was pretty sure she had broken bones in her hands and feet in a desperate attempt to fight her way out of the coffin. She couldn't speak or even open her eyes.

"A shame. This one was pretty," she heard a coarse voice say. A hand wearing what felt like a rubber glove roughly squeezed one of Natasha's breasts.

"Stop that," another voice - older and more cultured - said. "Put her on the cart with the others."

"Yes, Comrade Doctor," the first voice said subserviently. Then Natasha felt herself being lifted out of the coffin and swung through the chilly air. Chemical residue drizzled from her body and onto the floor. She was dropped onto an uneven surface that was a warm and oddly uneven combination of yielding and hard. The stench of chemicals and bodily wastes was overpowering.

To her horror, Natasha realized that she was laying on a pair of unmoving bodies. She tried to move, to say something, or to just scream, but nothing happened.

"This is such a waste," Natasha heard the older voice sigh in obvious disgust. Then Natasha felt something that felt like a metallic disk pressed against her chest. Simultaneously, a hand checked her throat for a pulse.

There was a thud as something warm and wet was dropped next to Natasha. A dead hand flopped onto her belly.

Somewhere, a door screeched open. Warmth and the smell of burning meat filled the room.

"Are you done, Comrade Doctor?" the first voice asked.

The man checking Natasha for signs of life seemed puzzled. He shifted his stethoscope several times, trying to find a better location to detect a possible heartbeat. Then he pressed his fingers harder against her throat, searching for a pulse.

"I think this one is alive," Natasha heard him say. The disbelief in his voice was obvious.

* * *

Roaring like a wild beast, Logan swung his arm and decapitated a helplessly shrieking technician. Hot, red blood splattered over Logan, but he didn't react. His eyes were wild and mad and a snarl seemed permanently fixed to his face.

Logan turned and began stalking towards his next victim. Alarms were howling. Voices were screaming for help. People were running and there was a tangle of bodies at the doorway. Logan could smell and hear and taste the terror.

It was good.

Somebody desperately opened fire with a handgun, but Logan barely felt the bullets as they tore into him.

* * *

"Damn it," the wrangler said. Licking his lips nervously, he hefted his taser-staff and stood his ground.

Two other wranglers worked their way to either side of the target. A fourth wrangler was lying dead on the floor, a massive pool of blood spreading out from his eviscerated corpse.

Someone behind the wranglers was yelling into an intercom. "Backup! We need backup!"

"That's a good girl... a good girl..." whispered the wrangler with the taser-staff. He had a young daughter of his own, and while he had never dared to say it aloud, X-23 did resemble her.

Crouched in the corner, X-23 hissed at the wranglers like a cornered cat. But behind all of her fury, the wrangler could tell she was terrified.

Eight years old, the wrangler thought to himself. Dear God, she's only eight years old.

"Good girl..." the wrangler whispered again.

X-23 exploded out of the corner in a whirlwind of claws.

* * *

"No, Sensei! Please, no!" Yukio pleaded.

Yukio's trainer kicked open the door and effortlessly pitched Yukio into the alleyway.

"I'll do better! I'll do better! I promise!" Yukio wept as she scrambled to her knees.

Crouching next to Yukio, the trainer calmly locked a steel collar around the young girl's neck. A length of chain secured the collar to an eyebolt attached to the the wall of the alley. Then she tore Yukio's clothes off. Once Yukio was naked, the trainer stood up, grabbed Yukio by the collar, and slammed her shoulder-first against an overflowing dumpster.

"You are back to what you were before Lord Yashida saved you, Yukio," the trainer said in an coldly calm voice. "You are a dog again. Tommorrow, I will decide what to do with you. Perhaps I will allow you to resume your training. Or perhaps I will leave you out here to fight with the other dogs for scraps."

Then the trainer left, the door to the alleyway slamming shut behind her with awful finality.

Soon, they would let Mariko find out what has happening and allow her to "rescue" Yukio. The process by which Clan Yashida was molding Yukio's mind and body was an ancient and proven one. By the time they were done with her, Yukio would be a perfect warrior - and utterly loyal.

Back in the alley, Yukio screamed and sobbed and begged for mercy as she pounded on the door.

Not this.

Anything but this.

* * *

It was a fine spring day and the Prince was enjoying his daily walk in the park. Today, he was being escorted by his three wives and a small flock of children. The Prince was a very wealthy and very important man, respected for his piety and philanthropy. Less well known was that he was a generous donor to "charities" that funneled money to a wide variety of Islamic terrorist groups.

Clint sighted his rifle.

Multiple governments had made it very clear to the Saudis. They had to clean up the "charity" situation. The Saudis made promises, but did nothing. The money continued to flow and people continued to die.

Eventually, a decision was made. A message had to be sent.

Clint picked his target.

Take in a breath. Let it out slowly. Squeeze the trigger...

Clint hesitated. He looked away from the scope and shifted his position slightly.

This mission would change everything. It would change him.

Nothing could go wrong on this mission. That was why they'd sent Clint.

The park was located in a tremendously isolated and secure area. It was a hell of a shot that they were asking of Clint - almost two kilometers. But Clint was a product of careful selection and relentlessly intensive training. He was the best shot in the world. Some whispered that his talent was almost too incredible and wondered if he had somehow been altered into something more than human.

Clint shook his head, pinched the bridge of his nose, blinked several times to clear his vision, and then resighted his rifle. He had to stop thinking. He had to concentrate on the shot. Nothing else.

Through his scope, Clint saw the target crouch down and exchange a few words with a young boy. The boy seemed excited about something and his eyes were sparkling with happiness.

Stop thinking, Clint told himself. Concentrate on the shot. He was a soldier and he had a mission. A message had to be sent. He was taking a life in order to save thousands of lives.

_Take in a breath_.

The Prince was untouchable. If he was killed, it would only exacerbate the situation.

_Let the breath out slowly._

But the man's youngest and prettiest wife? His favorite? She wasn't untouchable. Not at all. She would make a great message.

_Squeeze the trigger..._

* * *

Part II - The Assassin

There were a lot of people who wouldn't be too happy with the idea of an Avenger and an X-Man having a private talk. So Logan and Natasha agreed to go deep off the grid. They finally ended up in a fairly dismal bar located somewhere in Newark.

It was only three in the afternoon, but the bar was already filled with drunks and people who were working hard at getting drunk. Logan was dressed as usual - sort of like a combination of a lumberjack and a particularly dangerous hockey fan. Natasha was going with the basic biker-babe look. To no great surprise, she filled out a halter-top and a threadbare pair of jeans rather nicely. As a result, she attracted more than a few blearily interested looks when she entered the bar.

Squinting into the dim light, Natasha saw Logan sitting at the end of the bar. He nodded at her.

Natasha sat down next to Logan. He wordlessly gestured at the bartender and a shot glass appeared in front of her. Natasha gave Logan an amused look and knocked back her drink. Then she licked her lips and nodded appreciatively.

"I don't know the brand," Natasha said. The accent she was using was impeccably local.

"It's a new distillery out of - believe it or not - Utah."

"I like it."

Logan smiled. "Do you drink whiskey with anyone but me?"

Natasha returned the smile. "Like any good daughter of my homeland, I prefer vodka. Unfortunately, I have an image to maintain. So I spend too much time drinking expensive cocktails in stuck-up bars filled with selfish children who think they're important adults. But when I'm with the right people, I have an occasional whiskey."

"What does Barton like to drink? Wine coolers?"

Natasha shot Logan a withering look. The question of whether or not Clint was right for Natasha hadn't been settled to Logan's satisfaction. Natasha kept telling Logan that it was none of his damned business, but he kept ignoring her.

"Actually, Clint's tastes are closer to yours than mine. When we first got together, he was surprised at how much I know about beer and whiskey. I've never gotten around to telling him who I learned it from."

A wry expression quirked across Logan's face, but then he suddenly got serious. "So what do you want, Natasha?"

Natasha pulled a flash drive out of her pocket and put it on the bar next to Logan. Logan glared at it suspiciously.

Natasha sighed, "Have you learned how to use a computer yet?"

Logan gave Natasha a wary glance. "They're just a passing fad."

Shaking her head, Natasha got to her feet. "Have someone you trust help you with the documents on the drive. They're important."

"How important?"

Natasha looked at Logan over her shoulder and said, "Weapon-X is back in business."

Logan stared at Natasha's back as she left the bar.

A pretty Japanese girl with pink hair detached herself from the hopeful loser she'd been talking to and approached Logan. Her eyes narrowed in worry when she saw the expression on his face.

"What's wrong?" Yukio asked.

Logan finished his drink and handed Yukio the flash drive.

"The past is back," he said evenly. By now Yukio knew Logan well enough to sense the danger in his voice.

* * *

The hotel room they were staying in was nothing much, but it was relatively clean and mostly free of vermin.

Yukio plugged the drive Natasha had given to Logan into her ridiculously expensive Yashida corporation laptop. It automatically ran a series of anti-virus checks on the drive and its contents. Then Yukio began working her way through the files in the drive as Logan watched over her shoulder.

"SHIELD documents," Yukio said in surprise. "Your friend is taking some very serious risks for you."

"She's a good girl," Logan said absently as his eyes flickered over the crime-scene report that Yukio's laptop was displaying.

"Are you sure she can be trusted?" Yukio asked carefully. Sometimes Logan had a blind spot where women were concerned.

"Yes," Logan said flatly. Yukio decided she might as well consider the issue settled.

Together, Logan and Yukio examined Natasha's files. SHIELD's analysts had noticed a pattern that the rest of law enforcement had missed. There was an assassin on the loose and he was killing important figures in the criminal underworld. And the killer was ranging across the world. So far, he had killed dozens of people on five continents. Usually, the killer's actions were part of a larger operation in which one group of criminals absorbed another gang's territory and operations.

Reaching over Yukio's shoulder, Logan clicked on a link in the report they were reading. A photograph of a gruesomely killed man appeared. The man had been viciously slashed apart. Both Logan and Yukio were intimately familiar with blades. They knew what edged steel could do to a human being and they immediately realized what they were looking at.

"Claws... like yours," Yukio said.

"Almost like mine," Logan replied.

Yukio glanced up at Logan. With a clicking metal-on-metal sound he extended two of the three bone-like claws on his right hand. The one in the middle he left unexposed.

Yukio looked back down at the image on her laptop and then nodded in realization. "Whoever killed that man only had two claws on each hand."

Logan didn't say anything.

Yukio continued to examine the photo. Then she pursed her lips in surprise. "The width of the paired slash marks is rather narrow."

Logan nodded in agreement, "The killer is pretty small. Maybe your size. Maybe even smaller."

Yukio backtracked and then clicked on another link. Another photograph from the same crime scene appeared. It showed a two-track cut slashed deep into a steel door. The cut had removed the door's lock.

"Normal steel - even the best alloys - couldn't do that," she said quietly.

"Adamantium could," Logan responded coldly.

* * *

Logan was in the shower, hot water cascading down his back as he stared blankly at nothing.

Yukio didn't say anything as she joined him. She had a washcloth and one of those tiny bars of hotel soap in her hands. Crouching down, she washed Logan's feet. Then she started working her way upwards.

Logan didn't react to her touch. He simply continued staring at the back wall of the shower. He didn't even close his eyes when Yukio washed his hair.

Reaching up to wipe some stray soap away from Logan's face, Yukio asked, "Are you okay?"

Logan nodded.

Yukio pursed her lips. "Are you hungry?"

Logan nodded again.

"Would you like a blowjob?"

Logan nodded for a third time - and then blinked and finally focused on Yukio. A wryly reproachful expression appeared on his face.

Yukio just smiled, kissed Logan on the cheek, and stepped out of the shower.

* * *

They were sitting in a diner that wasn't too far from their hotel, having a midnight breakfast.

"I thought Weapon-X had been closed down," Yukio said as she splashed hot sauce onto her eggs.

"That's the story," Logan replied with a shrug, "but it never seems to really die."

"Wasn't it a U.S. military operation?" Yukio persisted

"There was a connection to the Pentagon. And to the CIA. And to MI6. And to the Canadian military and intelligence agencies."

Yukio frowned and took a bite from a strip of bacon, "So it was actually a NATO project?"

"Maybe, but I sometimes wonder if anyone really knew who the hell was really behind Weapon-X. It seemed to be completely run by William Stryker, but an Army Colonel doesn't have the pull to put together something that big. And sometimes it seemed to be trying to create super-soldiers, but other times it seemed to be doing research on mutants."

Yukio nodded. "As near as I can tell, the killer in your friend's files is really just an assassin for hire. Not something that you would think Weapon-X would be interested in."

Logan took a moment to drink some coffee. "Weapon-X lost control of me. Maybe they lost this guy, too. Or maybe they've just found a new way to make a fast buck."

Yukio thoughtfully poked at her eggs. Then she said, "You once told me that your ability to regenerate was the only reason you survived the adamantium bonding process."

"Yes."

"And the bonding process also attached adamantium to your natural claws."

"Yes."

"That would suggest that the assassin has regenerative abilities and claws - just like you."

Logan stabbed a chunk of sausage and then ate it. "I think you're right."

"Logan, have you ever met anyone else like you?"

Now Logan's face was particularly cold. "Two people. One is my brother. The other is dead. But neither of them had two-clawed hands."

Yukio was obviously surprised. "I didn't know you had a brother."

"He's an asshole. I hope you never meet him. If you do, run."

"Do you have any other family?"

Logan was silent for a long time before he answered. "Some kids. And their descendants."

"I suppose that shouldn't be a surprise. How many do you have?"

"I don't know."

Surprised by Logan's response, Yukio frowned uncertainly.

"I met a girl just after the Civil War," Logan said softly. "She was my first wife. Her name was Katie and she was a pretty Irish girl. We went out west and started a ranch together. We had two sons and three daughters. One of the girls died of pneumonia when she was five."

Yukio's eyes were now quite wide. You just never knew where a conversation with Logan might take you.

"The other kids grew up," Logan continued. "My oldest boy went back to Canada and started a ranch of his own. He married late in life, but still had a couple of kids. The younger boy made a career out of robbing banks - he wasn't even thirty when he finally got himself hanged. Knowing him, I wouldn't be surprised if he left a few kids behind. Both of my daughters married good men and had families of their own. One of them had eleven kids; the other had eight. That wasn't unusual back then."

Yukio was still staring at Logan.

"That wasn't the only time I was married," Logan finished. "And I've had a few kids without the benefit of a wedding ring. There was a time when I tried to keep track of my descendants, but I eventually stopped. I don't know anything about my great-grandkids. Or great-great-grandkids."

"Were any of your children mutants?" Yukio asked. She was obviously awe-struck.

Logan shook his head. "None that I know of."

Then Logan's eyes became distant. "My first family... The little girl who died... Her name was Ellie. She had long black hair and her mother's green eyes. In the summer she liked to pick flowers down by the creek."

"I'm sorry, Logan," Yukio said quietly as she watched her friend mourn a child who was well over a century dead and gone.

His eyes still far away, Logan smiled bitterly. "You know, there was a time when what I wanted more than anything was to have my memories back."

* * *

As they left the diner, Yukio asked Logan, "Are we going to check this out?"

"Yes," Logan answered.

"Where do we start?"

"At the top."

* * *

The room was filled with dead men. The stink of death and gunfire filled the air. And the most important drug-lord in Miami was begging for his life.

Carlos had once been one of the most dangerous men on the East coast, but success had caught up to him. You could see it in his softening face. He was enjoying the high-life just a little too much. And he had started sampling his own product.

Yukio prowled throughout the room, making sure that nobody would suddenly stand up and start shooting again. That left Carlos with the vast misfortune of talking to Logan.

"What do you want? I can give you anything!" Carlos said brokenly. Five minutes ago he had been untouchable. Now he was looking death right in the eye.

"Who killed Alvarez for you?" Logan asked tersely.

Hoping that cooperation would save his life, Carlos answered immediately. "I don't know! A guy approached me. He said he was with an outfit that could guarantee a hit on Alvarez and his most important people. After that, I could take over, but they wanted ten percent of the take. They were taking all the risks, so I went along."

"Who approached you?"

Carlos shook his head. "There weren't any names. We met and he made his offer. I said yes and he told me where to send his ten percent. That was it."

"What'd he look like?"

"A white guy in his forties. He was in good shape and had black hair and brown eyes. He was wearing a good suit and a Rolex wristwatch. Nothing really stood out about him."

"How do you deliver the ten percent?"

"Electronic bank transfers through the Cayman Islands. It goes to Switzerland, but after that it's untraceable."

"You ever think of cheating them?"

Carlos laughed shakily. "They got Alvarez without a problem - so I knew they were bad news. I just paid my share. Ten percent isn't much of a price for what they gave me."

Actually, Logan didn't particularly care whether Carlos lived or died. But Yukio took her role as Logan's bodyguard seriously, and she didn't want Carlos to be a problem in the future.

* * *

A very pretty and very frightened Moorish girl was huddled in the corner of the bedroom, a sheet wrapped around her otherwise naked body. The remains of two bodyguards were scattered about the small house and two more had bled out on the street outside. One of the biggest arms-dealers in North Africa was lying in his bed, desperately trying to staunch the bleeding from his stomach - in the fight with Logan and Yukio, one of his own guards had accidentally shot him.

"Take the girl! Take my money!" Mahmud sobbed in heavily accented English.

"Who killed Duncan for you?" Logan asked.

Hope suddenly appeared in Mahmud's eyes. He understood about bargaining for information. "I was approached! Americans I think - probably CIA. They gave me Duncan!"

"What did they want?" Logan asked inexorably.

"Ten percent! Please, please, let me go! I can get you whatever you want!" Mahmud begged as his blood-soaked hands scrabbled at his leaking stomach.

They couldn't get much more out of Mahmud. He simply didn't know anything else.

When they were done, Yukio tossed the girl Mahmud's well-stuffed wallet. He wouldn't be needing it.

* * *

The Pashtun who traded in heroin while piously proclaiming himself a righteous defender of his people and his faith told them the same story they'd heard before. Logan and Yukio artfully framed a Pakistan-based terrorist group as the Pashtun's killer. The resulting internecine bloodbath killed quite a few terrorists who were posing as gangsters and gangsters who were posing as jihadi.

The Englishman who ran a European-wide murder-for-hire organization told them the usual story. He also didn't seem to appreciate the irony of what was happening to him. For some damn fool reason, he kept fairly detailed books of his operations. Scotland Yard never did figure out who sent them those records, but a lot of people went to jail because of them.

The Serbian who trafficked in young girls and boys didn't have anything new to add to the story. Yukio did some fairly horrible things to him before she killed him. She would have done much worse, but they didn't have the time - they had to get a warehouse full of the Serbian's slaves to someone who would take care of them.

* * *

In the Athens airport, Yukio sipped some surprisingly good tea and said, "You know, we must be cutting deep into the profits of whoever is managing that assassin."

Obviously lost in his own thoughts, Logan nodded.

"It occurs to me that they're sure to notice and send someone after us. That's part of the plan, isn't it?"

Logan nodded again.

Yukio smiled into her tea. "I've never tried a threesome, but I'm curious. That pretty Greek girl over by the counter has been looking at you. Why don't we ask her if she's interested?"

Logan nodded for a third time. Then he suddenly came back down to Earth.

"Damn it, stop doing that," he growled.

* * *

They finally got their break in Shanghai.

The Nameless Sons Triad had been a minor player in Shanghai for as long as anyone could remember. But just a few months ago - after generations of mayhem, theft, extortion, and murder - the right people suddenly died and the Nameless Sons rocketed to an impressive new position of power.

The office occupied the entire top floor of one of Shanghai's newest high-rises. It was an ostentatious display of wealth, but the head of the Triad wanted to celebrate her new-found fortune.

Unfortunately, fortune can be quite fickle.

The boss of the Nameless Sons was a maturely attractive woman in her forties. She was wearing a very expensive business suit that tastefully emphasized her still quite shapely legs. At the moment, she was on her hands and knees, forehead pressed to the floor. There was so much blood soaked into the carpet that it pooled around her hands and knees and was soaking into her long, luxurious hair.

Yukio was translating. Her Chinese wasn't great, but it was passable.

"Same old story," she reported to Logan. "Someone offered to kill her rivals for a percentage of the proceeds. Oh... and she wants to live, will pay us anything, and the gods will honor us in the afterlife if we show mercy. You know, the usual."

Looking frustrated, Logan said nothing.

Yukio shifted her grip on her katana. Sensing what was coming, the woman on her knees screamed something. Yukio frowned in surprise and shot back a rapid-fire question. The woman responded quickly, her words tumbling over each other.

"She says she has pictures of the assassin," Yukio said slowly.

* * *

They were sitting on a park bench in downtown Shanghai. It was a beautiful summer day - a coastal wind had swept away the worst of the smog.

Logan carefully used his thumbnail to scrape dried blood from a photo.

"How did she get these?" Logan asked Yukio.

"She said they did a lot of surveillance. These are from some remote cameras that the Nameless Sons had set up to keep an eye on one of their rivals."

"Smart move," Logan said absently.

"Very smart. So smart that it was probably a mistake to let her live," Yukio suggested.

Logan didn't seem worried. "She's pissed off a lot of people and now doesn't have anybody to back her up. She either runs or dies. Either way, she's not much of a problem."

"You just prefer not to kill women," Yukio sighed.

"Call me old fashioned."

"Welcome to the club," Steve Rogers added.

* * *

Yukio exploded off the bench, her hand lunging for the sports bag that concealed her sword.

Steve blocked Yukio's grab and kicked the bag away. Yukio immediately snapped a heel-hand punch at the bridge of Steve's nose. Steve moved just enough that she missed. Yukio then crouched and swung into a hooking spin-kick intended to catch Steve behind the knees and sweep him off his feet. Steve stepped over her kick, grabbed Yukio by the shoulders, and then spun her around and tried to pin her against the bench. Yukio's back-kick didn't connect, but it did force Steve to let her go.

"People are staring," Logan said conversationally. He was still examining the photos.

Steve stepped back. Yukio used the breathing room to produce a wickedly slender fighting dagger seemingly out of nowhere, but didn't attack.

"Hello, Steve," Logan said.

"Logan," Steve replied tersely, still keeping his eyes on Yukio.

"Are you two done yet?" Logan added.

Steve nodded. After a moment, so did Yukio. Then she put her knife away.

* * *

"You have a bodyguard," Steve said. It wasn't a question. It was more a statement of disbelief.

"Yeah. She's pretty good, too."

"I noticed."

Yukio didn't say anything. She was still trying to get over the shock and embarrassment of having a six-foot tall, blond-haired, and blue-eyed Caucasian sneak up on her in the middle of Shanghai.

Logan rubbed his eyes. The wind was dying and the smog was rolling back in. That sort of thing bothered Logan more than most people.

"So what brings you to Shanghai?" Logan asked.

"Fury is idly curious about your multi-continent rampage," Steve answered dryly.

Logan shrugged. "We haven't killed anybody who didn't deserve it."

"So I understand. Oh, and Natasha and I had a long talk. She sends her love."

Logan didn't say anything.

"Want to tell me about it?" Steve added.

Yukio shifted very slightly as she waited for the inevitable fight. Whoever this American was, he was very, very good. However, she and Logan together should be able to take him...

"There's not a lot to talk about," Logan said.

Steve sighed. "Logan... some people call me first super-soldier. I don't claim to have the same stake in this as you, but if Weapon-X is back in business, I'd really like to know what they're doing."

Logan thought about that. Then he wordlessly handed Steve the photographs.

* * *

"Just a kid," Steve said quietly. The regret in his voice was obvious.

"Yeah," Logan replied.

The photos were in black-and-white, but the resolution was quite good for something taken from a video feed. As two men terminally behind the technological times, Logan and Steve were both impressed by the picture quality.

The first photo showed a slim form clad all in black. Her face was hidden by long, dark, windblown hair as she gracefully climbed over a high stone wall.

The second photo was on the other side of the wall. It showed a wild tangle of a fight between the assassin and two guards. A spray of dark liquid - obviously blood - was jetting out of the battle. A guard's head was hanging at a strange angle. They could only see the blurry lower half of the girl's face. It was distorted by a savage snarl.

The third photo showed the girl paused outside a window. At her feet was another dead guard. A pair of deadly metal claws were extended from her hands. This time, her face was fully visible. Despite the look of fierce concentration on her face, she was quite pretty. Her eyes were slightly wider-spaced than normal and she had high cheekbones, a snub nose, narrow lips, and a slightly pointed jaw. She looked predominately white, but there was something else in her features. Yukio couldn't quite pin it down, but it occurred to both Logan and Steve that she might have some American-Indian blood.

The assassin was barely a teenager, but all three of them could recognize some of Logan in her face.

* * *

They were in a noodle shop not too far from the river. More than a few customers were unabashedly staring at them. They were an odd bunch for Shanghai.

"After the war, the Army spent two decades trying to duplicate Dr. Erskine's formula," Steve said as he used chopsticks to work on his bowl of noodles. Yukio was mildly impressed at how adeptly Steve used them. Logan had demanded his usual fork.

"No luck?" Logan asked curiously. He was paying more attention to a bottle of beer than to his lunch.

"Not really," Steve shrugged. "There were some positive results, but not enough to justify the program. And some of the test subjects ended up in pretty bad shape. So the Army shut it down. But then something else appeared."

"Weapon-X?"

Steve nodded, "By the sixties, mutants were appearing in greater numbers. The CIA tried to do something with them, but it didn't work out. I'm sure you know that story."

Logan nodded.

"Eventually, some parts of the old Erskine project was reconstituted under William Stryker. That was Weapon-X. But the focus wasn't on enhancing ordinary soldiers."

"It was about mutants," Logan said flatly.

"Yes. It was an Army-CIA-NATO collaboration. But eventually, it was closed down."

"Why?"

Steve glanced up from his noodles and met Logan's eyes. "Well, for one thing, one of their primary projects went berserk, tore their major facility to pieces, and killed a lot of their people."

Logan didn't smile. It took some effort.

"After that, there was an investigation - actually there were multiple investigations - and nobody liked what they found. Stryker and his people were doing experiments on people who weren't volunteers. Funding was coming into the project that couldn't be traced. There was evidence that a lot of information about the Erskine project had been lost to the Russians. There was talk about some kind of mind-control serum. Stryker was out of control and using the project for his own purposes. It was a huge mess."

Logan frowned. "The Erskine stuff that the Russians got hold of - was that what ended up in Natasha?"

Steve nodded, "The KGB killed a lot of people to get some kind of working results. They were actually worse than Stryker. Natasha is pretty lucky not to have died in the process."

Logan looked Steve in the eyes. "Steve... that describes you. And me."

Steve sighed, put down his chopsticks, and changed the subject. "Stryker should have been court-martialed, but Weapon-X was so embarrassing that nobody wanted it to go public. It also turned out that Stryker had a lot of powerful friends."

"What kind of friends?" Logan asked.

"The kind of friends who always seem to have key government jobs no matter who won the last election. And they were scattered through a half-dozen allied governments. They thought Stryker was their tool - except maybe it was really the other way around."

Logan grunted.

"So Stryker faded into the background. The Army made sure he never got another promotion, but Stryker was still an officer and had pull and resources beyond that of an ordinary Colonel. Whether his friends were helping him out of loyalty, or because they thought he was the best weapon they had against the so-called mutant threat, or maybe just because Stryker was blackmailing them, is a good question."

"But Stryker's dead," Logan pointed out. "I was there when he drowned."

"Yes."

Obviously exasperated, Logan tapped the small pile of photos that was sitting on their table and said, "So what's with this girl?"

"Some part of Weapon-X is active again - and apparently it's now a for-profit enterprise. We'd like to know more."

Logan gave a fraction of a nod.

Steve took a deep breath and said, "Okay, Logan, who is she?"

Logan looked down at the photo that showed a clear view of the killer's face. "I don't know," he said.

Steve waited for Logan to go on.

"I've been around for a long time, Steve," Logan added. "Longer then you might think. Longer than you. I figure she's one of mine. Maybe a great-great granddaughter. But I don't know the details."

Steve could sense the decades of loss in Logan's words. "Logan, we can't let her run loose. And we want her alive."

Logan looked Steve in the eyes. "We'll help you get her away from Weapon-X, but then she goes to the Xavier Academy."

Steve hesitated. "She's killed a lot of people, Logan."

"So have you and I. They gave us medals for it. You put her in prison and she'll just keep on killing. Ororo and the people at the school... they can help her. Hell, they're the only people who can help her."

For a long moment, Steve considered what Logan was saying. Then he nodded in agreement.

"What do you want from us?" Logan asked bluntly.

"To be there when Weapon-X comes after you. Seriously, you have to be making them really angry. Sooner or later they'll respond."

Logan actually smiled at that. "A lot of people at SHIELD are less than happy with mutants in general and the X-Men in particular. What do they think about the idea of us working together?"

"Fury and I think it's necessary. The rest of SHIELD can shut-up and soldier."

"One other thing..." Logan added.

"What?"

There was no particular expression on Logan's face. No anger in his voice as he spoke. "If Fury has any ideas about bringing the girl into SHIELD - that's not going to happen. We're getting her out of the super-soldier world, not deeper into it. Understand?"

Steve was just as flatly expressionless as Logan as he said, "Understood."

Logan considered that for a moment, and then he nodded his head. "Okay, we've got a deal."

Then Steve glanced at Yukio, "You don't say much, do you?"

"Don't let the pink hair fool you," Logan said with a slight smile. "Yukio is a traditional Japanese woman. She's quiet, modest, and knows her place."

Yukio rolled her eyes.

* * *

"What a minute..." Yukio said in surprise. "He's Captain America? The Captain America from World War II? And the fight against the aliens in New York?"

"Yep," Logan said.

Yukio shook her head in amazement as she eyed Steve. He was on the other side of the park, pacing back and forth as he talked into something that looked like an ordinary cellphone.

"He was stuck in suspended animation for a while," Logan continued.

Yukio nodded distantly. She seemed to be studying the casually powerful way Steve moved.

"SHIELD found him and brought him back."

Yukio nodded again, a tiny, distracted smile on her lips.

"If you're a good girl, we'll let you watch the next time Steve and I make hot, throbbing, man-love."

Yukio nodded a third time. Then her eyes suddenly went wide.

Logan was laughing for the first time in a long time. Yukio hissed a curse at Logan in Japanese and threw a balled-up paper napkin that bounced off his forehead.

But she couldn't help but smile.

* * *

A week later, Logan and Yukio were in San Francisco, tearing apart a trans-Pacific smuggling ring. There wasn't a body-count this time - Steve was being touchy about that. Instead, they were asking a lot of questions and then letting people go afterwards. Sometimes they would track the people they'd released. They were trying to make it look as if they didn't have a good lock on their target. What they were really doing was giving Weapon-X time to put together a response.

"Wolfpack, this is Buckler Six," the radio hissed. It was an older man's voice, made choppy by tension. "The target is in the lobby. Over."

Logan glanced at Yukio and nodded. She picked up her katana. They were in an old hotel near the airport. The hotel was undergoing renovation and was almost devoid of guests - and the few present were actually SHIELD agents.

"This is Buckler One to all stations. I have vehicles all over the outside. The target has at least a dozen gunslingers for backup. Over." This voice sounded younger than the previous.

"This is Skyhigh to all stations," another report came in. This time it was a woman's voice. "I have movement in the airspace. It's a helicopter. No registered flight plan. Over."

Logan tossed an empty beer bottle into the trashcan. "Ever since that damned business with Tony Stark, everyone has to bring a helicopter along," he grumped.

"Say again, Wolfpack? Over."

"Wolfpack to anyone who cares. Never mind."

"Wolfpack, this is Buckler Six. The target is in the elevator. I've got shooters in the lobby. They're packing body armor and assault rifles. Over."

"Buckler Command to all stations," Steve's voice came in. "Wolfpack has the target. Carnival and I have the lobby. Redrum is cleared to engage the chopper. The rest of you stay put. Over."

There was a chorus of acknowledgements.

* * *

Just down the street, Natasha got out of her car and lifted a pair of electronic binoculars to her eyes.

The approaching helicopter was a well-respected French design. It was widely exported for both civilian and military use. As she watched, missile pods extended from the chopper's sides and a light chaingun rotated out from a hidden recess below the chin. None of that was standard even for the military model. Someone had spent a lot of money on this particular toy.

Natasha sighed to herself. "Ever since that business with Stark..." she muttered to herself.

Flipping open the trunk of her vehicle, Natasha extracted the latest in man-portable anti-aircraft technology. Then she positioned it over her shoulder and sighted carefully.

The bad guys weren't the only ones who learned from experience.

There was a cheerful beep that announced that her weapon had a target lock.

* * *

Logan and Yukio were watching a camera. The assassin had stepped out of the elevator... but instead of moving down the hall, she used a claw to core out the lock of the room right next to the elevator. Then she entered the room and closed the door behind her.

"That's a rather immodest dress for a girl her age," Yukio remarked.

Then a thunderous boom rattled the windows of Logan and Yukio's room.

Logan grunted and said, "The plan was to use the chopper to shoot up our room. Then she'd come in right after and clean up whatever was left."

"Given your abilities, not a bad plan," Yukio suggested thoughtfully.

"Let's go have a talk with our little girl," Logan responded.

* * *

Tear gas was filling the lobby. Thanks to his SHIELD-issue breather mask, Steve was fine. The same couldn't be said for the Weapon-X mercenaries.

Bullets were flying wildly around the lobby as Steve slammed into the closest mercenaries. The desk clerk - actually a SHIELD agent - had ducked into cover. So had the young couple - also SHIELD agents - who had been loafing around the lobby.

The mercs were trying to react to the ambush and Steve had to admit that they were doing a fairly professional job. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve spotted one of them positioning himself next to the lobby entrance and raising his squad automatic weapon. Cap's shield smashed him to the ground while Cap kicked the legs out from under the man he was directly engaging.

As Steve caught his rebounding shield, a third merc drew a bead on him.

"Watch your six," Clint's said over Steve's transceiver. Steve dropped and rolled into another target. The merc aiming at Steve promptly ate an explosive arrow.

Steve and Clint were a pretty effective team.

* * *

Even on the fifth floor, Logan and Yukio could hear the fight going on downstairs. Off in the distance, emergency vehicle sirens were howling.

Logan knocked on the door of the room where the assassin was hiding. Yukio looked at him in disbelief.

There was no response. Logan pushed the door open.

The assassin had just finished kicking out a window and was obviously planning to escape. She was wearing a light, strapless dress. It was yellow and went rather well with her long black hair and bright green eyes. And Yukio was right - it really did show too much skin for a girl of twelve or thirteen.

Logan walked into the room and said, "Hi." He didn't have his claws out.

Yukio immediately followed Logan into the room and then stepped away from the door. She ended up precisely two steps behind Logan and one to the side. She was holding her katana in a sure, two-handed grip. The sheath was still on her blade. If it came to a fight, Logan was supposed to tangle up and block the assassin while Yukio maneuvered around them and struck to disable.

For a long, frozen moment nobody said or did anything else. Logan could see the calculation in the girl's eyes as she examined Logan and Yukio, considered the distances between them and herself, and referenced the door and the window. She was trying to decide if the mission could still be achieved.

"That dress is inappropriate," Yukio said firmly.

The assassin's eyes shifted to Yukio, then back to Logan. She was obviously confused. Everything was wrong. Nobody was acting right. Where was the violence?

"What's your name?" Logan asked calmly.

The assassin made her decision. Claws came out of her hands and feet as, with a dancer's grace, she launched herself into a spinning, lightning-fast attack.

* * *

Steve and Clint had the lobby secured. Regular SHIELD agents were handcuffing the mercenaries and applying first aid where required. It was required in quite a few places.

Outside, Natasha sat cross-legged on the hood of her car, her missile launcher cradled in her lap. She was watching the small horde of emergency vehicles that were clustered around the burning wreckage of the helicopter. As she watched, another helicopter - this one from SHIELD - swooped into the area and began disgorging agents.

Radios sputtered and squawked as more SHIELD agents set up a cordon around the hotel. On the road leading to the hotel, a SHIELD civil affairs agent was having a quiet talk with a pair of flabbergasted police officers.

Natasha tapped the transceiver in her ear. It opened a private channel.

"Hello, lover, how's it going?" Natasha asked.

"Everything's fine in the lobby," Clint responded. "What's it like outside?"

"Busy, but the boys and girls have everything under control. How's Logan doing?"

"That's not settled yet."

* * *

In a wild tangle of flesh, blood, and blades, Logan, Yukio, and the assassin exploded out of the hotel room and into the hallway. The fight would have been tough anyway, but Logan and Yukio were at a disadvantage in that they were trying not to hurt the assassin.

Logan and the assassin were tangled up together. The assassin was doing her best to gut Logan, while he blocked and grappled her. Yukio circled the two of them, striking again and again with her sheathed blade while trying to keep clear of the assassin's sweeping foot claws. Even so, Yukio was already sporting a dozen cuts of varying levels of severity, and nothing Yukio did seemed to do much more than slow the assassin. The assassin was regenerating just as fast - perhaps faster - as Logan.

The battle was still raging when Steve, Clint, and a trio of agents equipped with heavy armor and dart rifles pitched in. Clint got a bolo arrow around the assassin's ankles while Steve and Logan knocked her to the floor - each immobilizing one of her clawed hands. Yukio pinned the assassin's legs. Then the agents filled the assassin with sedative darts.

That was what it took.

They hauled the assassin out of the area in a SHIELD medevac helicopter. She was secured with chains and still heavily sedated. Logan and Yukio rode with her. Natasha hitched a ride as well.

Over the roar of the helicopter rotors, Natasha handed Logan a pair of headphones. Then she put on another pair.

"She looks a little like you," Natasha said as she gently traced a finger across the eyebrows of the unconscious assassin.

Logan just nodded.

"I'm sorry, Logan," Natasha continued. "I know this is hard for you."

"Not as hard as it is for her. Hey... are you in trouble with Fury?"

Natasha just smiled. "Steve and Clint and Phil are covering for me. Steve and Phil are trying to pretend they're mad at me, but they really aren't. I'd appreciate it if you were careful with what you say around Hill or Fury."

Logan nodded. "Natasha, thanks for letting me know about this. I mean it."

Yukio was in the process of having her wounds dressed by a SHIELD medic. She glanced the other way as Natasha leaned over and kissed Logan on the forehead.

* * *

Logan and Fury didn't really like one another, but they were trying a new thing. It was called "being civil". A cynical person might have suggested that perhaps they needed something from each other.

"I want to talk to her," Logan said. It wasn't quite a demand, but it was heading in that direction.

"Fine," Fury said abruptly.

Logan cocked his head at Fury. That had been a lot easier then he'd expected.

"She damn near killed two of my interrogators," Fury added. "I'm thinking you can get more out of her with less risk to my people. So far, she hasn't said a word."

* * *

The assassin was sitting in the corner of her cell, where she could keep an eye on the cell-door. She was wearing a standard-issue prisoner's orange jumpsuit. It was the smallest one available and it was still about two sizes too big for her. She tensed when Logan entered her cell. Yukio was behind him. Thanks to their regenerative abilities, Logan and the assassin looked fine. Yukio was sporting a fair collection of bandages and bruises.

The assassin smiled at Yukio. Then she plucked at the front of her jumpsuit.

"Is this better?" she asked.

For a moment, Yukio was taken aback. Then she said, "I liked the color of your dress, but it was too immodest."

"I needed freedom of movement."

Yukio shook her head. "I once killed a man while wearing a full formal kimono. Oh... come to think of it, you would look quite nice in a kimono. I have one from when I was younger that might fit you."

Logan sat down on the floor, with his back against the door. Yukio knelt next to him.

"Let's try the name thing again," Logan suggested. "I'm Logan. This is Yukio. Who are you?"

The girl shrugged and said, "X-23."

Logan frowned thoughtfully. "I can't say I've ever met anyone before with that name."

"It means 'Experiment 23'," the girl provided helpfully.

"Do you have another name?"

The girl hesitated. "Dr. Kinney used to call me Laura."

"Who's Dr. Kinney?"

"She was a scientist on the project. She was nice to me."

"Where is she?"

The girl hesitated again before answering. "She's dead. They killed her for being nice to me."

"Who killed her?"

"I don't know. One day, she just wasn't there anymore. I asked where she was and they told me she was gone. But I figured it out. They didn't want anyone to be nice to me."

Logan and Yukio exchange glances.

"You said 'they' told you Kinney was dead," Logan said slowly. "Who are 'they'?"

"The people who run Weapon-X. They're doctors, so they know what they're doing."

Logan paused for several seconds, staring at the young girl.

"Is it okay if we call you Laura?" Logan asked.

Laura just shrugged.

"Where are your father and mother?" Yukio asked.

Laura shook her head. "I never had a father or mother."

"Everyone has parents," Yukio said softly.

Laura met Yukio's eyes. "I don't. I'm an experiment. Weapon-X made me. And they own me. So I have to do as they say."

* * *

Steve and Clint were in the Helicarrier's operations center. They were watching a small monitor screen that showed Logan and Yukio in Laura's cell.

"How's Natasha doing?" Steve asked Clint.

Clint shrugged. "Happy we freed the girl. Not happy that there's another super-soldier program in business. She really wants these Weapon-X guys shut down."

Steve nodded.

"Does Fury know that she brought in Logan?" Clint asked.

Steve frowned thoughtfully, "I don't know. It could be that he does, but he's decided to ignore it. Maybe he expected her to do something like that."

Clint thought that over and then nodded slowly.

"Natasha has a real problem with this super-soldier business," Clint continued carefully.

"The programs tend to be pretty brutal."

"It wasn't that way for you."

Steve sighed, "I was lucky, Clint. Very lucky. After me, the Army tried again. But with Dr. Erskine gone, it never seemed to work. Good men were hurt - or ruined for life. It was so bad that the Army had to shut it down. And the program that Natasha went through was far worse."

Clint looked away, "Natasha tried to tell me about it once. The Russians put a dozen people at a time through a quick-and-dirty version of the Erskine process. Almost everyone died. There was a crematorium for the bodies that worked day and night. I'm not sure Weapon-X is as bad as that."

Steve nodded towards the screen that was showing Laura, Logan, and Yukio. "Maybe," Steve said, "but she calls herself X-23. What do you suppose happened to X-1 through X-22?"

* * *

A week later, Fury and Logan were on the verge of breaking their uneasy truce.

"We had a deal," Logan said stonily.

Fury nodded. "We still have a deal - and I plan on keeping it. But she isn't ready yet."

"You've got everything you're going to get out of her, Fury."

"Maybe. Maybe not," Fury snapped. "But that isn't the point, Logan. She's dangerous and we can't let her loose until we have a better idea how she'll react in the outside world. Hell, Logan, you should be with us on that! What's going to happen if we drop her into a school full of kids and some idiot gives her a hard time because she's wearing the wrong shoes or listening to the wrong band? Or some punk with more hormones than brains decides to pat her on the ass?"

A rather alarming expression appeared on Logan's face. "If anyone touches her ass, his biggest problem will be me - not her."

"You know what I'm saying!"

"I do. And, believe it or not, I agree. But that's why we have to get her into the school. Fury - you may have met Hank, but you don't know Ororo or Marie or Kitty or Bobby. They've been taking care of kids with powers and problems for a long damn time. Let them do their job."

"No."

Fury recognized the look that was creeping into Logan's eyes. It suggested that a sizeable part of the helicarrier was going to be wrecked and the families of more than few SHIELD agents were about to collect their survivor's benefits.

"Don't even think about it, Logan," Fury snapped. "I'll play ball with you. Just convince me that it's safe to let her go. That's all I'm asking and you know damn well that I'm being reasonable."

* * *

Natasha was the one who prevented the impending Fury-Logan war.

"You don't understand the way she thinks," Natasha told them.

"And you do?" Fury said.

Natasha nodded. "She's so heavily indoctrinated that she can only barely imagine doing something that her controllers might not like. I was a young agent once. I know how that feels."

Logan looked skeptical, but when Natasha talked he was willing to listen. Interestingly enough, Fury apparently shared that trait with Logan.

"What are you saying, Natasha?" Fury asked.

"Let me talk to her."

* * *

Fury, Logan, Yukio, and a pair of SHIELD psychics were crowded into a small conference room. A large monitor screen was mounted on one of the room's walls. The screen showed a view of Laura's cell.

"Is this a good idea?" Logan asked.

Fury shrugged, "Did I ever tell you about the time Natasha conned information out of trickster god?"

"What?"

The cell-door opened soundlessly and a pair of SHIELD power-armor troopers escorted Natasha inside. Natasha turned her head and said something to the troopers. They seemed hesitant, but after a few more words they left Natasha alone in the cell with Laura.

Suddenly, the sound went on and the people in the conference room could hear what was being said in the cell.

"Hello, Laura," Natasha said softly. "Do you know who I am?"

Laura studied Natasha's face. Then she started talking.

"Natasha Romanoff - a.k.a. the Black Widow. Born 1984 in Kiev. Former KGB/FSB agent. You defected to SHIELD several years ago when you became disenchanted with Russian intelligence policies and came under suspicion of disloyalty. You were treated with a Soviet variation of the Erskine super-soldier serum and have enhanced endurance and agility. You are a trained ballerina, martial-artist, and acrobat. You are an expert with firearms, especially handguns. You are a talented interrogator and seductress. You speak a wide range of languages, including but not limited to: Chinese, Dutch, English, French, German, Italian, Korean, Portuguese, Russian, Spanish, Japanese, and Vietnamese. You are a member of the SHIELD sub-organization known as the Avengers. You have a suspected personal relationship with Clint Barton - a.k.a. Hawkeye. You have emotional connections with Steve Rogers - a.k.a. Captain America, Tony Stark - a.k.a. Iron Man, Nicholas Fury - director of SHIELD, Philip Coulson - senior SHIELD field agent, and Pepper Potts-Stark - wife of Tony Stark. You have no surviving close family. Your personal threat rating is Alpha 3. I have a good probability of killing you in a direct fight, but I should avoid such a conflict unless necessary."

Everyone in the conference room was stunned.

"Thank you, Laura," Natasha said evenly. "Who is your command authority?"

Laura didn't say anything as she considered Natasha's question,

"Who owns you?" Natasha re-stated.

"Weapon-X," Laura replied immediately.

"Why?" Natasha asked.

Laura again frowned in confusion.

"Why does Weapon-X own you?" Natasha clarified.

"They've... always owned me..." Laura replied, still obviously confused at where the conversation was going.

"Will they own you forever?"

Laura didn't say anything, but she was obviously considering the situation.

"I don't know," she finally said.

"Laura, Weapon-X doesn't own you any longer," Natasha said softly. "You are out of their control. They have no hold over you. You're free."

Laura shook her head decisively, "Freedom is an illusion. Everyone is property."

"Who told you that?"

"My handlers at Weapon-X."

"Perhaps they had an interest in convincing you of that?"

Laura thought that over and then nodded slowly. "Perhaps."

Then Natasha stepped closer and slapped Laura across the face. She hit Laura so hard that Laura's head rocked to the side.

"Dammit!" Fury gasped as he grabbed for the handset on the conference table. He was about to order the power-armor troopers to get their iron-clad asses back into Laura's cell.

Meanwhile, Logan was already half-way to the conference room door when Yukio grabbed his arm and said, "Wait!"

Logan and Fury both froze as they stared at the monitor screen.

Laura wasn't doing anything. She wasn't even rubbing the red blotch on the side of her face.

Natasha slapped Laura again. Fury and Logan both flinched.

Then Natasha drew her hand back once again.

Laura reached up and grabbed Natasha by the forearm. "Stop that," Laura said firmly.

"Laura, why haven't you attacked me?" Natasha asked.

"I told you. Your personal threat rating is Alpha 3. I have a high probability of killing you in a direct fight, but I should avoid such a conflict unless necessary. So far, you have done nothing that is a real threat."

"Okay, Laura."

Laura released Natasha's arm.

Natasha walked to the cell-door and banged on it. "I'm sorry that I hit you, but it was necessary."

"Oh... was it training?" Laura asked.

Natasha nodded as the cell-door swung open. "Something like that."

* * *

"Agent Romanoff!" Fury yelled, "Don't you ever do something like that again! I damn near had a heart attack!"

"Yes, sir," Natasha said quietly.

"Don't give me a 'yes, sir'! You knew I wouldn't have let you in that cell if I had an idea what you were about to do!"

Natasha didn't say anything.

"Well?!" Fury roared.

"I'm not supposed to say, 'yes, sir'," Natasha replied reasonably.

Fury closed his eye. Then he took a deep breath. Then he took another.

"The psychics confirmed that Laura was for real," he said finally. "She wasn't acting. Now we've got something to work with. Good job."

"Thank you, sir."

"Now get out."

"Have a good afternoon, sir."

* * *

"Dammit, Natasha!" Logan snarled.

"Not you, too!" Natasha said in obvious exasperation. "Fury already chewed me out."

Logan made an obvious effort to control himself. Then he rubbed his forehead.

"Okay," he said. "Sorry. You scared the hell out of me. And thanks to you, I have an idea."

"What?" Natasha asked eagerly.

"Baseball."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

* * *

They were in one of the helicarrier's auxiliary cargo holds. It was mostly empty and actually rather big. Some SHIELD troopers were guarding the exits, but otherwise they were alone.

"I don't understand," Laura said. She was looking at the child-sized baseball-glove she was holding.

"It's called 'catch'," Logan said. He had a ball-glove on and was experimentally throwing a baseball into it with his other hand, trying to get the glove to conform properly to his hand.

"What are we catching?" Laura asked.

"The ball," Logan replied, holding up the object in question as Yukio helped Laura put on her glove.

"Why?" Laura asked.

"For fun."

"Catching a ball is fun?"

"Most people think so. For now, just think of it as training."

Laura nodded instantly - as if that explained everything.

"Here's how it works," Logan said. "We'll stand in a triangle. The legs of the triangle are about ten meters long, but they can expand or contract. Then we take turns throwing the ball between us. We use a variety of throws - fast, slow, balls rolling along the deck, high balls in a ballistic arc, balls thrown directly at the catcher, and balls deliberately thrown off-center. The idea is to get used to catching any ball that comes your way."

Laura nodded as she intently devoured what Logan was saying.

Then she glanced at Yukio. "Do you know how to do this?"

"Of course. I'm Japanese. We invented baseball."

* * *

They spent the rest of the afternoon playing catch. Then they practiced pitching. It turned out that Laura had a pretty good fastball for her size.

"When you grow up and get a longer arm, I'm sending you to the pros," Logan said.

Laura wasn't sure what Logan meant, but the idea that she was good at what they were doing seemed to please her.

* * *

"Clever..." the senior SHIELD psychologist said slowly. He and Fury were watching Laura's 'training' via a surveillance camera.

"He's trying to gain Laura's trust while beginning the process of socializing her," the psychologist continued. "All the while he's testing her interactions with others. And he's doing it in a physically-oriented, merit-based environment in which Laura should be comfortable."

"Will it work?" Fury asked.

"I'd say there's a good chance," the psychologist replied. Then he paused thoughtfully.

"You know, she's got a pretty good arm," he added.

"I noticed," said Fury. "Mean fastball for a kid."

The psychologist was still considering what he was seeing. "Tell Logan to show her a range of pitches. Things like sliders and curveballs. And he should also teach her how to bat. She's smart and very physical. She needs to be challenged."

* * *

When you got down to it, the helicarrier was just a ship. And every ship has a grapevine that distributes news from one end of the vessel to the other. The fact that three mutants were playing catch in one of the auxiliary cargo holds quickly shot up to the top of the grapevine's "worth mentioning" list.

Natasha walked into the quarters she shared with Clint and was surprised to find him madly digging through a footlocker.

"Clint, what are you doing?"

Clint tossed something in her direction. She caught it in midair.

It was a baseball-glove.

"Why are you..." Natasha began.

But Clint was already out the door. He had a bat, a glove, and a trio of spare balls.

Natasha didn't see any choice but to follow him.

On the way to the cargo hold, they ran into Steve. He had a bat, a glove, and a Yankees cap.

* * *

Days passed.

Steve tossed the ball into the air, grabbed his bat in both hands, and expertly popped the ball into a low arc.

Natasha got underneath the ball without a problem, but it bounced off the edge of her glove.

There was a chorus of catcalls.

"I hate this fucking game," Natasha hissed under her breath.

* * *

"As you swing the bat, you want to break your wrists," Yukio said.

"Really?" Laura said in surprise. "Shouldn't I be breaking someone else's wrists?"

It took Yukio a second to figure out what she meant.

* * *

More days passed.

"Nah, you hold it like this," Clint said as he adjusted Laura's grip on the ball.

"See how your fingers are arranged relative to the stitching on the ball?" Clint added. "That gives you better control."

Laura nodded very seriously.

"Okay, good. Now position your feet like this and this..."

* * *

Natasha dropped the ball again.

"I hate this fucking game!"

Clint sighed. "Natasha, quit fighting your glove. Make it work for you."

* * *

"You want to keep in front of the ball," Steve said. "That way, even if you miss the catch, your body will block the ball and keep it from rolling past you."

Laura listened intently.

* * *

Laura looked at Logan and whispered, "Natasha isn't very good at this."

Logan chuckled, "She didn't grow up playing the game. Once she gets used to it, she'll be a menace."

Laura frowned. "I hope so. I feel bad for her."

* * *

"If a hitter bunts, it's a good assumption that he'll be tagged out," Steve said as he and Laura shared a bottle of water. "The real point is to move a man already on base into scoring position."

"There's a lot of strategy to this game," Laura observed.

Steve smiled and ruffled Laura's hair. She tentatively returned his smile.

* * *

The ball dribbled away from Natasha.

"I HATE THIS FUCKING GAME!"

* * *

Yet more days passed.

"Speed is obviously important," Steve said, "but the secret to stealing a base is a well-performed slide."

Laura was hanging on his every word.

* * *

"Yukio?"

"Yes?" Yukio asked distractedly. She was busy tying Laura's hair back into a ponytail. Laura had given up on telling Yukio that she could do it herself.

"Why is Logan so much like me?"

"We think that you're related."

Laura shook her head, "That can't be. I was made in a laboratory. I don't have a family."

"That's what Weapon-X told you. Perhaps they lied. Or perhaps they didn't tell you all of the truth."

"Heads up!" Clint yelled as a stray ball zoomed towards them.

Bare-handed, Laura snatched it out of the air.

* * *

Natasha dove for the ball.

Everyone winced when she hit the steel deck. But after she climbed to her feet, she had the ball.

Laura jumped up and down and cheered.

* * *

The psychologist was trying not to show any nervousness. This was the most contact he'd had with Fury since he joined SHIELD.

"Well?" Fury asked.

The psychologist shrugged. "A few weeks of baseball and good treatment can't make up for years of abuse. It's doubtful if Laura will ever be completely normal."

"Get to the point," Fury said shortly.

The psychologist took a deep breath and did as he was told. "She's reacting positively to a non-abusive social environment. She's not losing her temper or showing signs of violent tendencies. Although she probably doesn't think of it in these terms, she's always wanted friends and family. Now she has them and she wants to keep them. That's made her cooperative and... well... docile."

"Any chance she's playing us? Pretending to fit in while she waits for a chance to escape and go back to Weapon-X?"

"That would be some pretty determined and sophisticated dissembling for a thirteen year old girl, sir."

Fury sighed, "She's not your typical kid. Her body-count is well over a hundred."

"Yes, sir, However, we have specialists who can confirm what she's thinking. And besides..."

The psychologist paused.

"Yes?" Fury demanded.

"Natasha thinks she's on the level," the psychologist finished.

Fury nodded slowly. Natasha's ability to read people was uncanny.

"It was a smart move to have Steve, Clint, and Natasha work with the girl," the psychologist added.

Fury shrugged, "I didn't order that. They came up with it on their own."

* * *

"We've found them," Fury told Logan. "What we got during the hotel operation - forensic data and prisoner interrogations - was critical. It turns out that this version of Weapon-X is a Hydra operation. We have a heavy assault team on the ground up in Saskatchewan. The Canadians will be supporting us with air-cover and an infantry battalion."

"I'm going," Logan said instantly.

Fury nodded.

Logan cocked his head at Fury. "No argument?"

Fury shrugged, "No."

"What are you up to, Fury?"

"Nothing. By the way, what's more important: killing some Weapon-X bastards or staying here and helping Laura?"

Logan was about to respond. Then he paused.

"The operation starts in a couple of hours," Fury said calmly. "I'll get you up there if you want to go, but you'll probably be away for three or four days. Maybe more. Your call."

* * *

Logan was in the quarters he shared with Yukio. He was sitting in a minimalist desk chair and staring at a blank wall.

Yukio entered the room. She hesitated when she saw the expression on Logan's face. Then she knelt next to him and pulled off his boots.

"SHIELD and the Canadians are attacking the Weapon-X facility," Yukio said softly as she carefully stowed Logan's boots under a nearby bunk.

Logan nodded.

Standing up, Yukio brushed hair from her eyes and said, "I know you hate Weapon-X - for what they did to you and to so many others. I know you want to be in on the kill, but it's best that you decided to stay. Laura needs us."

Logan nodded again.

Yukio examined Logan's distant expression. Then she smiled gently and said, "If things were different between us, I could fall in love with you for making the decision to stay."

Logan nodded once more. Then, after a long moment, he blinked. He shot Yukio an unfathomable look as he got to his feet.

"Let's find Laura and get in some batting practice," he said.

Yukio cheerfully tossed Logan his tennis shoes.

* * *

The facility was in flames and the sound of a dozen isolated firefights echoed across the forested, snow-covered, valley. But the battle was actually over. The defenders had been broken and both SHIELD and Canadian troops were just cleaning up the mess.

"I'm surprised Logan isn't here," Steve said as he and Natasha ran to the closest gunshots. Their presence would cut down on the number of friendly casualities.

"Fury talked him out of it," Natasha replied.

Steve shook his head. "Then he's a miracle worker."

Natasha gave Steve a speculative glance. "You know... Yukio is pretty cute. And I think she likes you."

Steve rolled his eyes. Natasha never seemed to get tired of trying to set him up with somebody.

* * *

It was a month since they'd recovered Laura. And a week since the Weapon-X facility had been captured.

"Laura is related to you, but she isn't your descendant," Fury told Logan.

Logan gave Fury a questioning look.

"Weapon-X had a sample of your DNA," Fury continued. "It was a leftover from the days when William Stryker was running things. The sample was damaged, but they used it to create a... well, 'clone' is technically wrong since Laura has both your DNA and the DNA of a woman who was with Weapon-X. My science people told me there really isn't an accepted term for what Laura is."

"Who was the woman?" Logan asked.

"A Dr. Sarah Kinney. Apparently she was eliminated for being too close to Laura. It seems the guys in charge didn't want Laura to have any emotional attachments. They wanted her to be a detached and isolated killing machine."

"They failed," Yukio observed.

Logan nodded. "Yeah. Laura's different because of the way she was raised, but when you get down to it, she's still just a kid. Give her a chance and she's a lot like any other kid."

"It's something that people with super-soldier programs always seem to forget," Steve added. "No matter how powerful or well-trained they are - your soldiers are still human."

Fury found himself wondering if what Steve had said was intended for him.

* * *

Laura seemed to have some difficulty absorbing the fact that Weapon-X had been destroyed.

"The doctors are all gone?" she asked.

Logan nodded. The strike on Weapon-X had been bloodier than SHIELD wanted. Resistance had bordered on the fanatical. There hadn't been much in the way of survivors.

Laura was silent.

"What's wrong?" Logan asked.

"Now I don't have anyone. I never had a mother or a father. I don't have brothers or sisters. All I had was doctors."

"You have me and the others. And I know a place - a school - where you'll be able to meet more people. Make more friends."

Laura looked doubtful. Then she asked, "What am I supposed to do? What is my mission now?"

Logan looked into Laura's eyes. Then he nodded slowly and said, "Soldier, there's a few things you and I have to settle."

* * *

Natasha showed up at Laura's room with sandwiches and apples. Laura wasn't in a cell any more. Instead, she was bunking in a room just across the passageway from Logan and Yukio. When Laura answered the door, she was wearing Yukio's old kimono - it was red with a pattern of white chrysanthemums. On Laura's feet were an elaborate pair of bunny slippers. They were from Logan.

"Colonel Fury sent in his final report on Weapon-X," Natasha said after they finished eating. "He thinks they've been wiped out."

"Logan says they've been destroyed before," Laura said skeptically. "They just keep coming back."

Natasha sighed, "Yes. That's happened. Hopefully, this time we've finally finished them off, but we'll have to keep our eyes open."

Laura didn't seem convinced.

"Remember the first time we talked?" Natasha asked.

Laura gave Natasha a wary look. "You hit me. It was training."

Natasha just smiled. "You told me that Weapon-X owned you. Remember?"

"Yes."

"Do they still own you?"

Laura shook her head, "No. I'm Logan's now."

Natasha considered that. It wasn't very politically correct, but...

"So what does that mean?" Natasha asked.

"I have new rules of engagement," Laura responded immediately.

"What new rules?" Natasha probed.

"Unless instructed otherwise, I am on stand-down and everyone is considered to have a non-combatant threat rating. I should avoid conflict except in order to defend myself or others. Any force I use should be proportional to the threat. Lethal force is only authorized to save the lives of myself or others."

"Do you think you can do that?"

"Yes. Why not?"

Elsewhere in the helicarrier, Fury looked at his best psychic. "Well?" he growled.

"She means it, sir."

* * *

Some of the most dangerous people in the world were there to say goodbye to Laura.

"Next opening day... you and me at Yankee Stadium," Steve promised.

"Gonna miss you, kid," Clint said. "Please don't become a Yankees fan - you'll break my heart."

Natasha had a difficult time saying anything. She just hugged Laura very hard.

After the helicopter carrying Laura, Logan, and Yukio lifted off the flight deck, Natasha finally found her voice.

"They always want their damned super-soldiers," Natasha said. "They tried to make her into something more than human. And something less than human. I think we caught her in time."

Clint didn't say anything as he took Natasha's hand in his own.

"Those programs never seem to go as planned," Steve said quietly.

"No. No, they don't. Steve..."

"Yes?"

Natasha's eyes met Steve's. "Someone will try again. There will be another program. Which means there will be more children like Laura - and more soldiers like us."

Steve nodded sadly.

"If we don't stop it, who will?" Natasha asked. Her voice was shaking.

Steve glanced up towards the bridge of the helicarrier. Fury was there, giving orders.

Fury didn't seem to realize that Steve was watching him.

* * *

Part III - Past, Present, and Future

Fury offered to fly them to New York, but Logan turned him down. And that was how they ended up in an old pickup truck, rattling eastward along Interstate 80.

Somewhere in Wyoming, Logan turned off the Interstate and headed north on a two-lane highway. Then they got off the highway and followed a gravel-surfaced county road. Eventually, they ended up on a two-track trail that wound its way through an arid landscape filled with stark expanses of dry grass broken by low hills, winding creek-beds, and exposed bedrock.

Laura was puzzled, but didn't say anything. Likewise, Yukio didn't have anything to say. However, she had a suspicion where they were going.

The trail climbed a low ridge. Then, in what seemed like the middle of nowhere, Logan stopped the truck and wordlessly got out. Laura and Yukio followed him.

Some towering clouds on the western horizon suggested a storm might be developing, but otherwise it was a beautiful day.

The ruins of the old ranch were just barely visible. It looked like a prairie fire had swept through the area long ago and destroyed the structures. Only foundations made of roughly stacked stones and the collapsed remnants of a fireplace and chimney remained visible.

On a nearby low rise, overlooking a narrow creek, there was a small enclosure. Inside the old, wrought-iron fence were a pair of raw-rock headstones. Neither stone had a name.

Logan opened the fence gate, stepped inside, and then crouched between the stones. Laura hesitantly followed Logan inside. Unsure of herself, but curious, she knelt next to him. Yukio waited near the truck. She felt it was proper to keep her distance.

This was for family.

"Who are they?" Laura asked hesitantly.

"Their names are Kate and Ellie," Logan said.

Then Logan took Laura's hand and pressed it against the smaller stone.

"This is Ellie," he said. "She's your sister. She looked a lot like you. And I know she would have liked you."

Laura was silent for a long moment. Then she smiled and said, "Hello, Ellie. I'm glad to be your sister."

Lost in his past, Logan stayed in the tiny graveyard. Meanwhile, Laura and Yukio went down to the creek and gathered wildflowers. Laura seemed to like that. Then Yukio showed Laura how to arrange the flowers, using stalks of long grass to bundle them together. Laura enjoyed that as well.

After a couple of hours, they got in the truck and drove away.

Behind them, the wind rippled through the flowers they had left on the graves.

* * *

Somewhere, in a place buried deep and dark, a man who had once been called Barnes opened his eyes. Around him there was a buzz of conversation as a team of doctors and scientists took notes and monitored his vital signs.

He was cold and he didn't know who he was. He didn't remember his last mission, but he knew there would be another one.

That was good. Because he was a soldier. And a soldier always needs a mission.


End file.
